#2 Being a bereaved parent ...

Not one day or month, a journey of a lifetime

“There are words like ‘orphan’, ‘widow’ and ‘widower’ in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. How does one describe the pain of ‘ultimate bereavement’!”

~ “a mother’s cry … a mother’s celebration” by Neena Verma, Page 50

July, they say, is the international bereaved parents’ month – a time to extend support to those who have suffered ultimate bereavement, the death of a child. As much as I honour the thought and the gesture, my experience and humble wisdom say, an entire lifetime would be less to understand and affirm the pain of a bereaved parent.  For a parent chosen to carry the cross of this loss, each moment is heavy and barren in a way that can neither be described, nor understood.

I struggled for most part of this month, tossing between the proverbial ‘to-be’ or ‘not-to-be’ of whether and what should I write about ultimate bereavement! It is a chapter from bereaved parents’ life story, that they both want to talk about, and yet lay silent under thick layers of their pain. I say this with a first-hand experience that I live in my heart, body, mind and soul. And I see almost all the bereaved parents that I interact or work with, wear a crippling dense silence when it comes to talking of their pain.

The only place that I could allow my grief to be seen and expressed was in the cathartic outpouring in my secret diary which eventually took the form of my grief memoir A Mother’s Cry .. A Mother’s Celebration. Who could I tell about the unbearable pain of holding lifeless in my arms the body that I had massaged with seasoned oils, nursed with nectar of my milk, cared through nights of infancy, illness or injury, and admired for strength and sunny looks … the body that I had nurtured in my womb and given birth to … the body that destiny chose me to put on pyre and entrust to sacred fire.

The word ‘bereavement’ comes from the old English word ‘bereafian’ or the Middle English ‘bereven’ which as per Merriam Webster Dictionary mean ‘to rob’, ‘deprive of’, ‘take away’ or ‘tear away’. In a symbolic way, loss by death actually feels as if one has been torn apart, robbed and deprived. Bereavement often leaves one shattered, sometimes even shrunk and altered forever at a deep level. Every loss hits the bereaved ruthlessly. Even though consolations sound hollow, we can still say that when parents or elders go, they leave behind legacy. But when children go, they leave behind shattered dreams, which not just pierce the whole-being of the bereaved parents, but also rob them of their identity.

What would you call a bereaved parent? What would they call themselves? There are words like ‘orphan’, ‘widow’ and ‘widower’ in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. Karla Holloway, an English Professor at Duke University, and a bereaved mother herself, felt “punished by this empty space of language”, and chose to use the Sanskrit word ‘vilomah’ to give a name to the tragic identity of her bereaved-motherhood. In literal terms, ‘violmah’ does not in any way relate to the death of a child. It actually means ‘opposite’ or ‘in the other direction’. But Prof Holloway used it to convey the sense of her loss being “against the natural order”. The death of a child is indeed in every sense against the natural order of life.

The grief of a bereaved parent rarely finds a closure, even when they have found ways to honour their child’s remembrance and initiate a legacy mission, like we have done in the form of the community libraries that we set up, carrying forward my son’s ‘weekend pavement library’ and some other altruistic endeavours that he started independently at the tender age of eight years.

Yet nothing can ever fully heal the wound of bereaved-parenthood. Bereavement and grief researchers world over agree that the grief of bereaved parents tends to be more acute and prolonged. They are prone to suffering a range of physiological and psychological issues, including diabetes, hypertension, metabolic and reproductive issues, even depression, failed marriage and suicidal ideation.

While grief itself is not a disease, sometimes serious medical issues manifest in the aftermath of grief. I am a living example. Without any external sign or known reason, chronic type-2 diabetes became my unwelcome guest that I have learnt to live with. And a traumatic injury triggered a neurological condition that too is my life-long companion now. My husband’s moderate type-2 diabetes turned acute, and his sinusitis flared up so badly that he needed a surgery.

“Whatever be the age of the child, ultimate bereavement is extremely difficult to bear. This pain feels no less in case of un-born child. Grief arising from loss of pregnancy and still- birth often goes unacknowledged, since these losses are mostly regarded as physiological events.

‘Grief Therapy as Meaning Reconstruction’ creator, Dr Robert Neimeyer, shares a moving story of a young mother who delivered a stillborn baby at seven months gestation. Shattered by her neonatal loss that made no sense, she found help in constructivist therapy. She could eventually affirm her child as having ‘lived in my womb’ and poignantly reframed her loss by calling the child ‘born still’ rather than stillborn.

This is not just wordsmithing. An in-depth study of the case reveals the severity of grief that the woman experienced. But, as is often the case with women suffering loss of pregnancy and still-birth, she found no space or support to honour, express and process her grief. Agreed, it may not be appropriate to attribute her recovery entirely to the constructivist therapy support she got. But it can surely be said with some confidence, that there was a likelihood of her grief turning complicated in the absence of therapeutic support. I know this first hand, having miscarried thrice.”

Excerpted from my book “Grief ~ Growth ~ Grace – A Sacred Pilgrimage by Neena Verma”, Page 15-16

Sadly in most cases, bereaved parents don’t easily find the support of a compassionate and wise companion. Even the most well-intended people find it hard to hold space for and companion a grief-struck parent in a way that would help them heal, restore and adapt to their post-loss life. In general, most of us tend to be limited in our grief sensitivity and wisdom. Even more so around a bereaved parent. True indeed, grief companioning is a deep and complex responsibility that very few are willing or able to shoulder and fulfil. Yet there are few basic things that we all can learn to practice when faced with a bereaved parent.

Please avoid cliches like “time heals all wounds”, “it is God’s will”, “she/he is in a better place”, “God recalls early those He loves”, “she/he is more needed in God’s realm than on earth”, “be strong”, “be brave”, “let go”, “move on”. While your intent may be good, even you would know in the heart of your heart that such platitudes mean nothing. If anything, they often cause the griever to isolate themselves in silence.

And please please please avoid the “atleast …” statements. While there were many so-to-say well-meaning people who reminded me that I needed to be strong for my family’s sake, in particular my younger son, quite a few went to the extent of saying things like – “at-least you still have one more child”. It was not just the suggestion that I needed to be grateful that destiny left me with at-least one child, but also the stark throw of the word “still” that further gashed my already bleeding heart.

The bereaved parents know their unkind reality well – that they have to continue parenting their children with the same love and responsibility as they ever did, no matter how hard it gets, what with the painful void of the departed child’s stark absence weighing them down. What more, they also have to hold the compassionate counsel and care for their other child(ren) who as bereaved sibling(s) might be just as distraught, sometimes more.

Please also keep an attentive eye on the overall state of the bereaved parent you are caring for. Please persuade them to take professional help, medical or psychotherapeutic, if you sense the need for it. Please remember - they may need some practical support too, not just persuasion.  

In this month of ‘International Bereaved Parents’, if you are thinking of reaching out to a bereaved parent, please do that. Just remember, companioning someone in grief, particularly a bereaved parent, is not a matter of one-time social courtesy or random visitation. It is a noble call that you receive from your own deep consciousness, and live it up with sensitivity, compassion, responsibility and consistency. Please know - when you don’t know what to say, it is better not to say anything. There is a lot you can do to companion a griever through quiet, gentle concrete care and practical support.

Feel free to reach me at drneenavermachimes@gmail.com if you need some guidance or coaching to cultivate/deepen your grief sensitivity & wisdom, and companion someone in grief, a bereaved parent or any other griever, in a #GriefWise way. Meanwhile if you like, you may consider gifting my book A Mother’s Cry .. A Mother’s Celebration to a bereaved parent, or my other book Grief ~ Growth ~ Grace – A Sacred Pilgrimage to anyone on a grief journey.

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And stay tuned to explore the multi-layered complex phenomenon of grief, learn my six-phase GROWTH Mandala model, and develop #GriefWisdom.

Affirm life in all its hues and forms. And remember to hope, love & smile.